Pen Pal
by HeathenVampires
Summary: About a month after the end of Season Five, Georgina Giles receives a letter from someone she has no memory of. Who the hell is Assan Ramanga? George/Assan -ish one shot.


**A thing inspired by a conversation with PokeThunder!**

 **George gave Assan her address in Season five... before she was mindwiped.**

 **What happens when he writes to her?**

 **Set about a month or so after the end of S5... agewise, I think thirteen works.**

-YD-

"George! You have a letter!"

George poked her head around the corner, exiting her bedroom to see what on _earth_ her mother was talking about. The only post George ever got was her monthly Ancient Egypt magazine subscription, and birthday and Christmas from her grandparents. None of which was today, nor would her mother refer to as 'a letter' rather than 'post'.

She was stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a paint splattered apron and a smudge of what George thought was probably clay on her face. George took the letter from her mothers outstretched hand, not recognising the handwriting but spotting the postmark.

"Romania... no idea."

"Well you better open it, someone went to a lot of effort to send post all the way across from there."

Sally Giles left George with the envelope, feeling it was quite thick and, rather excitedly to a history buff like herself, written on an old sort of parchment-like material rather than some A4 white from Staples.

Right, she ought to actually _open_ it.

Well, whoever it was was definitely writing to her - the top had 'Georgina' written first, then crossed out and 'George' written underneath. She jumped to the bottom, looking for the name of the sender.

"Assan?"

She said it to herself, trying to work out if the name rang a bell. For some reason it almost tasted familiar - like she had said it before, but she had no clue when. Looking back up for his full name and address, she spied the surname above a Romanian address.

"Assan Ramanga. Who the hell are you?"

She felt a little chagrined as she started reading - the first lines he wrote were "I hope you haven't forgotten me", and George resolved to make every effort not to upset whoever Assan was, who had gone to all this effort to send her a letter. Sinking down to perch on the stairs, George read her letter from mystery Assan Ramanga.

"Things are really quiet now, all the bad stuff is over and Shango" George should find out who Shango is... what a strange name "is starting to smile again. I miss my father a lot though."

Well, she had some common ground with this boy - she had lost her dad a while ago now, nearly four years. She continued to read the letter, finding something almost familiar in the way he used language through the letter - from Romania, she wouldn't expect his English to be so flawless.

 _When_ had she given him her address though?

"Mum! How do I send a letter to Romania?"

"Do you know who it's from?"

George shrugged nonchalantly, eyes drifting back to the paper in her hand.

"Assan Ramanga. I don't remember him, but... I don't know, I feel like it's familiar. And I obviously gave him my address. Plus he started with I hope you didn't forget me and I don't want him to feel bad!"

Her mother smiled indulgently as George rambled, eventually halting her with a hand on her wild curls inherited from her dad.

"You write the reply, I'll send it off at the post office when I next go."

"Thanks mum!"

George jumped off excitedly to her bedroom, hunted out her own pile of aged looking paper - granted hers was done with teabags and wrinkling and a little candle smoke, Assan's looked legitimately _old_ \- she sat down to start composing her reply.

"Hey Assan!

Course I didn't forget you!"

The lying begins, she thought, putting pen back to paper as she heard her mum singing out in the garden, peeking out to see her painting a big lump of metal. It would undoubtedly look amazing - her mums stuff always did.

"Mum's making something, and I can hear her singing through the window. Does Shango ever do silly stuff like that?"

Once she started, George found it relatively easy to fill a couple of pages with ramblings about her day, her mum and lots of tidbits about Ancient Egypt Assan might not know. She did add a small mention, between the excitement.

"I miss my dad too, you never really stop. But it gets easier, and you realise he wouldn't want you to be sad your whole life."

Eventually signing it off and remembering to copy his address first to an envelope, then to a little bit of scrap paper which she pinned to her noticeboard, in between Indiana Jones and her list of Latin verbs for the week to learn. Adding some sellotape to be extra sure the letter would make it to Romania without ripping open or something, George dashed back down to her mother.

"Done!"

"That was fast!"

"Turns out I like writing letters. Maybe I should join a penpal scheme."

The completed letter sat on the side for _three whole days_ before her mother, either coincidental or sensing her daughters impatience, picked it up and took it to the post office. George googled the average times for a letter to get there that same day, and awaited the post eagerly every day after it should average-times have allowed for her letter to get there, and Assan's to get back.

And maybe she had been waiting before. Maybe.

It was just too exciting, this mystery boy from somewhere so strange and mythological like Transylvania. Imagine if he was a...

"George! Are you alright?"

George opened her eyes to find a worried mother peering over her, realising she was on the floor of the kitchen with no memory of getting there.

"Ugh, why am I here? This floor is cold."

"You must have fainted. Are you feeling ok?"

"Bit of a headache, that's probably from hitting the floor."

"Well, you go lie down. I'll get you some water."

"Thanks mum."

It was so weird... George wasn't sure she had ever fainted before. Her mum brought her a glass of water and fussed around her, telling her to get some rest and George decided a nap was in order. It wasn't until she woke up, having had a really weird dream about bats, that she noticed the letter her mum had left on her bedside table. Assan had written back!

"I'm glad you didn't forget me, that would have made my letter quite a surprise."

It really had, she laughed to herself. Assan didn't need to know that.

"No, my brother isn't the singing or silly stuff type. More the telling me to do my homework type, but he's alright really. Not as harsh as my sister was before she was killed."

Well now she knew who Shango was. The poor guy... lost his mom, his dad _and_ his sister? Ouch. George decided to be his new best friend, since he **obviously** somehow knew her and was willing to talk about his losses with her. That was sweet of him really, in a way, so she was going to make sure he knew they were friends.

Hunting for her writing supplies, which were in more quickly accessible places than last time in preparation, George got on with writing Assan a nice long letter back and made sure to fill it with lots of cheery things to try and make him smile. With the amount of time it took back and forth, George knew it could be a month before she heard back, but that was ok. Some friends didn't have to talk every day, her mum always said.

Same with family, like her...

George shook her head, unsure who or what that thought had been about as her mind suddenly went blank. As soon as she started thinking about Assan again, the blank feelings went away and she felt better, forgetting the incident completely.

"Mum! When are you going to the post office again?"

"Already? You only got a letter back yesterday."

"Told you I like writing letters. When can you mail it?"

Her mother looked at her in surprise and amusement, but promised to send it off tomorrow. George changed in to her 'messy' clothes, then went to help her mum do some painting. She hoped it softened the irritation when George pestered her the next day, peppered with reminders to mail her letter to Assan.

It became a regular occurrence, and she saved every one of Assan's letters, would re-read them and try to understand the strange... itch inside her head, like they were telling her something she wasn't seeing. When her fourteenth birthday was coming up, George considered inviting him but figured it was a little much to ask him to come all the way over. She _did_ send him an invite though, with a written promise at the bottom they would definitely have to meet face to face in the future.

That caused some confusion for them both - his insistence and her still-missing memory of him.

"We _have_ met in person before you know?"

"Yeah, of course, but these monthly letters aren't quite enough to get across how much fun I am."

"Well, when I'm sixteen I'll be able to travel on my own. Family traditions and all."

"Is that a promise?"

"If you want it to be."

That was the gist of their back and forth writing, that they would meet up again - George knew they could probably trade email addresses or phone numbers, but by the time they had exchanged fifteen letters each, she was starting to feel a little fluttery, almost like... butterflies.

 _You don't even remember what he looks like. He could be a fifty year old man with no teeth! Or ten cats!_

That was what she told herself - she hated cats, dogs were much better. Even so, when she included a picture of her and her mum out on a beach, and Assan sent one back... her insistence to herself that she wasn't developing a crush on a letter was fading fast. His dark skin made his teeth stand out white as he smiled for the camera, and she inextricably loved the little patterned lines he had shaved into the sides of his short hair.

Perceptive as ever, her mother plucked the photo from her hand one day and started doing a dramatic mocking of her daughter, fake-swooning voice and overt hand gestures.

"Oh Assan, you're so dreamy even though I don't remember you."

"Mum! Give that back!"

Sally Giles ducked and laughed, holding the photo up out of her reach and George very maturely pouted until the 'fight' ended. As they calmed, her mum took a closer look at the picture she had held hostage.

"Hmm. He _does_ seem sort of familiar...oh, not again! These accursed migraines come out of nowhere."

George liberated her picture, led her mother over to the sofa. Curtains drawn, lights off, water and medicine in easy reach, George placed a damp cloth over her mums forehead. These migraines had just sort of began out of nowhere, though Sally had never used to have them. It was ever since that trip to that old school in Lancashire... the one neither of them remembered going to, where her mum had picked up that cute white necklace...

There it was again, that niggling _empty_ feeling. Like something was missing from her head. Looking at the photo of Assan alleviated it, distracted her easily from the nothing as she left her mum to recover from the migraine. Concerned, George had insisted she see a doctor, but a bunch of tests and scans had shown nothing and she got a prescription for painkillers she hated taking - they made her tired, meant she couldn't work on her art even if she got rid of the headache.

She ended up writing about it in her letter, simply to get the frustration about being able to do nothing for her out.

"My mum's laying down with a migraine. She only started getting them recently though, ever since we came back from Lancashire. Not that either of us know why we were there except mum must have sold them a sculpture..."

After that letter, George didn't hear from Assan for _three months._ At first she sat and convinced herself the letter was late, that was all. Maybe hers had been delayed, and then his was too. That could happen. She would watch the door every Saturday, rifle through the post when she got home from school only to be disappointed each time.

Then she began to get worried - what if Assan was sick and she didn't know?

What if Assan had simply gotten **bored** of talking to her?

By the end of the third month, she was debating sending another letter to quiz him about the events. On the day she was about to sit and write the new letter, his reply _finally_ landed on the doormat. George barely let it hit the mat before it was in hand, more soothed than irritated now, just to see his familiar handwriting that spelled out 'George Giles' beneath the Romanian postmark.

"I am _so_ sorry this is really late" the 'so' was underlined twice "but me and my brother had to go somewhere really urgently, so I didn't actually get your letter until about two weeks ago. Well, two weeks from when I wrote this, which is why I included the date so you would know when that was."

For some inexplicable reason, George felt like he wasn't being entirely truthful, but had no idea why and she wasn't about to call him out on it - she didn't want him to disappear on her for three months again. The rest of his letter was totally Assan, complaining Shango was annoying and that he hated school. Normal teenager stuff.

She still couldn't shake the sense he was lying though.

"He finally wrote back then? Did he say what the reason was?"

There was a hint of accusation in her mothers tone, her overprotective nature showing through. George hummed in acknowledgement, mind already on composing an understanding reply so as not to scare him off again.

Things went back to normal after that, and by her fifteenth birthday George had already calculated he was sixteen before her, and therefore if he could travel and still wanted to keep his promise, that Assan should come and see her for her sixteenth birthday. Except suddenly, he was reticent.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"But you promised."

Six months of letters back and forth followed before he eventually agreed. George grew ever more excited - her birthday wasn't long before school was over, so she wouldn't even have _that_ worry. Assan had some weird requests though - it had to be in the evening. It made little sense until he added he suffered with light sensitivity and sunlight made him itchy. She supposed it made sense to live somewhere it was dark a lot if that happened.

Her mother had said Assan could stay (after a great deal of wheedling) since he was making such a journey, and she would rather see for herself he wasn't an axe murderer. Upon hearing that, Assan added wherever he slept needed to be able to keep all the sunlight out. Which again, made sense. And the spare room only had one small window which they made a big heavy cover for.

"Did he say where he was meeting you?"

"Uh... the train station. Swears he can navigate fine to get there even though I said we could get him from somewhere else."

"Well alright then. So, is this where I finally convince you into a pretty dress to impress him?"

"Muuuum! No! I'm not dressing up. What would be the point? If he only liked me all fake girly, he wouldn't really like _me._ "

Her mother smiled proudly, hugging George tight and ruffling her hair affectionately.

"That's my girl."

They shared their secret wink, then got on with preparing for George's party - she had invited Assan, but he insisted he was too awkward and nervous to be faced with a huge social engagement.

Many of George's friends were upset by that - they were all desperate to meet the dark, mysterious penpal with his deep brown eyes and (in Claire's words, not hers) swoon-inducing smile.

"If you don't kiss him, I will!"

"Shut up!"

Maybe she talked about her letter friend a _little_ too much.

Despite her insistence to her mum that she didnt want to be 'dolled up', George found herself nervously fiddling with her plain shirt, wondering if her hair looked ok.

 _Get a grip George. You're a **Giles,** no man scares us._

Satisfied with her mental pep talk, George got out the car and prepared to walk up to the station. Wait. She didn't know what train he was supposed to be getting off... great.

"George?"

Heart going about a thousand beats a minute, she turned to the somehow-familiar voice. Assan was taller than she expected for his youthful face, and he looked exactly as nervous as she felt. His black shirt, trousers, boots and even gloves all had red detailing that was a rich crimson in the limited light of the evening.

"Assan!"

He smiled at her acknowledgement, and hugged her back when she practically leapt at him.

"Assan, you're _freezing!"_

"Yeah, it's part of whatever's wrong with me when it comes to sunlight and stuff."

"Come on, let me kidnap you away to somewhere warm?"

Assan smiled and nodded, letting George drag him along by the wrist to where her mother was blatantly spying from the front of the car. She put Assan's bag in the trunk and hustled him in to the back of the car, grinning the whole time and feeling none of the awkwardness she had expected.

"I remembered you said you were a big fan of meat but hated garlic bread, so we got pizza and made extra sure there was zero garlic."

"That's great. Thank you for having me by the way Mrs Giles."

"Oh hush! And it's Sally, Mrs Giles makes me sound like a teacher."

"Mum, you _are_ a teacher. Sort of. She teaches people how to sculpt and weld and generally make a big mess until art happens."

Something that definitely said she had obviously met this boy before was how Assan didn't look even a little surprised by how George talked a mile a minute, only stopping to draw breath when she was excited.

"Take a breath George, let Assan acclimatise to Britain!"

"Pfft. He's obviously been here before or we would never have met."

She saw her mothers raised eyebrow in the rear view mirror - George _still_ didn't remember meeting the boy. Still, Assan didn't seem to mind either way, mostly sitting and listening to her chatter away with a half smile on his face.

Even after the weirdness of his hating garlic bread ( _who doesn't love garlic bread dripping with cheese_?) and being allergic to sunlight, Assan had another quirk - he stood at the doorway and insisted "I was raised only to enter when invited "

"Well, come on in Assan. Before the neighbours see you hovering in the garden like a stalker."

"George!"

"What? It's true. You know that deaf old bat next door would be round in a minute asking who he was while threatening him with a knitting needle."

Sally rolled her eyes, shooing them both in and sitting them at the table while she fussed around fetching drinks and food and cake, threatening Assan herself with a spatula when he tried to help.

"Go entertain George, she's talked about nothing else but you visiting for weeks."

 ** _"Mum!"_**

Assan actually laughed, then fell into the seat opposite her and sipped his glass of water - he didn't like fizzy pop either.. George was beginning to wonder how she had befriended someone so strange, but he was also funny and easy to talk to. Not to mention **gorgeous,** his picture not doing justice to just how attractive he had grown up to be.

George and her mother had garlic bread with theirs - though Sally took hers through to the living room with a glass of wine to catch up on her soaps - and Assan visibly scrunched his nose up at the smell. It was quite cute really.

"It's ok. I don't share garlic bread."

"Good. So... how was your birthday?"

Conversation was easy, natural despite having only known each other through writing letters for nearly three years. He notably relaxed when she was done eating the garlic bread and it had all gone, even more so when George brushed her teeth to get rid of the greasy film left by the food.

"We covered the window up, this is where you'll sleep. Assuming mum doesn't camp out at your door to check we aren't sneaking around. Or that you aren't a secret serial murderer. She's a little overprotective..."

"It's fine George. No sunlight and it looks comfortable. I'm good."

He smiled and it looked genuine, so she relaxed and turned to head to her own room for the night. Assan stopped her with a hand on her wrist, leaned down to kiss her cheek and made her heart do a bit of a somersault in her chest.

"Honestly, I'm happy to be here. Go get some sleep."

Smiling dopily, George turned in to her bedroom and changed in to her pyjamas. Still smiling, she sat on her bed and checked her phone. Lots of texts from her friends, mostly demanding to know if Assan had turned up, and if he was 'as hot in person'. Grinning until her cheeks started to hurt, George answered the messages quickly, checked on Dragons World, then finally crawled under her cozy covers.

Suddenly the two days Assan was staying didn't seem like nearly long enough. How was she to go from that to just letters again?

Maybe he had Skype...

Shaking her head and running a hand through to check for any stray grips or slides left in there, she got comfy and eventually managed to drift off to sleep.

Almost like it had been waiting, the dream seemed to come alive the minute her eyes closed. Something about Shadow Warriors... a mirror... talking rocks in a slimy lake. And Assan. Assan was there. So were...

"Vampires."

George bolted awake with that word on her lips, feeling something give way in her mind and memories poured forth to fill that _empty space_ that had plagued her so.

 _Vlad was Adam. Brother. Vampires are real_.

-YD-

 **I'm about 96% sure his name is only spelt with one S canonically, but I got used to writing it with two in the Building Something New-verse, so I am sticking with that... purely for my own laziness.**

 **This is a one shot with a high chance of coming back to make a story out of... depending on interest and when I have fewer active stories but I had to get this idea down.**

 **I'm not even sure I'm happy with it, but hey I do love to write something new (wholly expects someone to turn up and say they wrote this before and I just missed it, which is plausible as my OTP is Vlad x Ingrid and there is very very very little of that out there that I didn't write myself... and I'm rambling, ignore me it's very late but I wanted to finish this.)**


End file.
